


Salt of the Earth

by Mrstserc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1209238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrstserc/pseuds/Mrstserc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Season 8 one-shot featuring Dean and Benny. Benny needs help with his boat after being forced to leave his job at the diner and Dean wants to put off facing Sam's wrath after Martin's death, so this is a Cajun fish camp in the bayous of Louisiana and a short tryst. It's dedicated to Lissette Garcia because we both think Dean needs comforting. Dean/Benny. Ref to Purgatory Destiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salt of the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> For Lissette Garcia

**_End of 8.09 Citizen Fang – As Dean leaves Carencro, LA, for the 800 mile trip to Kermit, TX.  Dean’s phone rings._ **

**_DEAN: Sammy?_ **

**_SAM:  ‘Sam, I need your help. Come quick.’ Nice one. Swapping Amelia's phone out with a burner, sending a distress signal... You got me good. When did you do that?_ **

**_DEAN: While back, in case I needed it. Looks like I made the right call. So, did you see her?_ **

**_SAM: Yeah. Yeah, I saw her. And she's doing just fine. But, of course, you know that._ **

**_DEAN: Actually, I didn't. I did know it was the only way to get you to lay off._ **

**_SAM: So? Is it done?_ **

**_DEAN: Yeah, it's done._ **

**_SAM: Any casualties?_ **

**_DEAN: Martin._ **

**_SAM: Was it Benny?_ **

**_DEAN: He had it coming, Sam. I'll tell you what happened._ **

**_SAM:  I-I know what happened, Dean._ **

**_DEAN: Okay, you want to listen to me or not?_ **

**_SAM hangs up._ **

**_\-----------------------------------------_ **

The old days of salting and burning ghosts were like a fairy tale. Good times, working with his brother, helping people, hell, even helping restless spirits move on. It was simpler then, purer, like Purgatory. It also seems so long ago right now. It makes him nostalgic, but slamming his hand on the steering wheel after Sam hangs up on him, jars him back to the fucked up present.

Dean knows it won’t do any good to call Sam back right away. His little brother needs some cooling off time. The older Winchester brother steers the big Chevy into a gas station as he thinks. Hell, he hasn’t even made it out of Louisiana yet. He’s still a good 600 miles away from Kermit, Texas, and an angry brother, so he could just keep going. Sam might get over it by morning.

Snorting to himself, Dean thinks he has never felt as homeless as he does right now because he’s got nowhere to go, and no one in the world to care. Sam, well, his little brother seems to resent that Dean found his way out of Purgatory and back to him. Sam had moved on, buried Dean in the refuse of the past he never wanted.

And Cas… Cas made it back somehow, but he is being so weird and distant. When he thought Cas was gone for good, it felt like a sharp knife in his gut. He thought Cas showing up alive would change all that, but it hasn’t. Dean closes his eyes in pain and regret for a moment until the gas pump clicks off. Dean goes inside to pay, grabs a coffee, and heads out to move the car away from the pumps and, still uncertain where to go, he sits sipping the sour brew. When the phone rings, Dean almost drops his cup as he fumbles to answer. Maybe Sam wants to talk – hell, even to yell at him.

“Sam?” Dean’s trying, but there’s a hint of desperation in his voice.

There’s stillness on the other end, then a deep voice with a thick Cajun accent speaks up. “No, brother, it’s Benny.”

“Benny, yea, hey. What’s up man?” Dean juggles the phone until he’s got it balanced on his shoulder so he can flip the top off the coffee cup and sip more of the hot liquid. “You get out of there? Somewhere safe?”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout me, now. I’m good. Sounds to me like you have something else on your plate. Did you have a fight with your gigantic little brother?” Benny’s more than guessing – he could see the fissures in Dean’s spirit when he saw him, and he knew that he brought his friend more trouble.

Dean’s sigh sounds deep and unhappy. “You just look out for yourself, Benny. I’m okay.”

Benny makes a noncommittal grunt. He feels a twinge of guilt when he decides to manipulate this human hero who has fascinated him with his old-fashioned values and willingness to see the good even in an old monster like him. “Well, see, maybe I ain’t so good, you know. Huh?” 

“What’s wrong, Benny? You’re being good, right? I saw you didn’t, you know, drink Martin. Elizabeth told me what happened, man. I’m not, I’m not blaming you.” Dean settles in his seat a little, closes his eyes. He knows that Sam’s blaming Benny, hell, most hunters would. Funny how it used to be Sam trying to treat the things they hunted individually. He sighs deeply again, not even realizing that he has. The vampire on the other end hears it though and knows there’s something really bugging Dean. Knows him well enough to know he’s got a better chance getting him to come if he thinks he’s doing it for Benny than for himself. 

“So are you still in Louisiana, brother?” Benny lets the silence grow between them; he figures that sticking up for him drove a wedge between Dean and the little brother he talked so much about during those long nights in Purgatory when it was too dark to move around. He saw that Dean had been in a fight before he met up with him, hell; he had a gash across his forehead smelling of fresh blood. Benny can put things together. Dean must have had to fight past Martin and Sam. “Dean?”

“Yeah, Benny. Still here in Louisiana. What do you need?” Dean sounds better already, and Benny smiles to himself. He knows Dean well enough to know that making him feel needed perks him right up. The vampire keeps the smile from his voice and grumbles a bit. “It’s my fishing boat. Thought I’d get out of here for a while, but there’s something wrong with the engine, brother. I need a mechanic…”

Dean does brighten up. A destination. A purpose. A friend. Being welcomed somewhere. He can feel the darkness lift, tries to keep the giddy relief out of his voice. Tries not to sound as needy as he feels. “I’m a mechanic; I can take a look at it. You at the fish camp?” 

Getting directions, Dean finishes his coffee before turning the car around, heading back to Cajun country instead of taking the long flat trek across north Texas. He digs through his cassettes until he finds a Credence Clearwater Revival tape. He lets the music float through him as he heads toward the bayou.

Benny’s fish camp is situated at the end of a long dirt road, and Dean parks the Impala next to Benny’s old pickup camper. He grabs his duffel and a six pack of beer he picked up at the gas station before leaving the last town. He follows a path deeper into the wooded swamp and climbs the steps to a veranda twice as big as the bunkhouse situated in the middle. The veranda has a fish cleaning station, an outdoor kitchen with something bubbling in a big pot, and a small dock where an airboat with a  cabin has its engine cover open and a large man muttering as he removes parts.  

“That English?” Dean calls out to let Benny know he’s there as he drops his duffel near a bench outside the bunk house door before stopping to look at the setting. This swamp looks like it could have been unchanged for hundreds of years; Spanish moss drifting from Live oak trees wave in the slight breeze like gray scarves, the marsh grass is tall enough to provide screening from neighbors, if there are any. The swamp itself is spotted with eighty-foot tall Cypress trees standing in water with their trucks spread out and vines clinging from one to another. The place is not quiet though, birds, fish, and insects make their presence known, and water laps at the pilings holding up the cabin and veranda. The weakened December sun breaks through the dense foliage in places; afternoon air temperature in the upper 70’s this far south. The whole camp has an otherworldly feel, but Dean can’t see any threat.

Benny watches Dean survey his surroundings, knowing how hyper-alert Purgatory made the hunter. “It’s safe enough long as you don’t be trying to swim in it. Give the gators their space and they’ll give you yours.” The vampire wipes his hand on a rag before swinging himself onto the veranda and engulfing Dean in a hug, clapping him on the back before pushing him arm’s length away, hands still on his shoulders as he searches his face. “Thanks for coming. You need a beer? Want something to eat before you start work?”

Dean turns sleep deprived green eyes to Benny. “I could eat if that’s ready. And I brought some beer, so just show me where the cooler is.”

The vampire takes his time showing Dean the camp. It’s a mix of old and new. An old-fashioned outdoor water catchment system collects rainwater, and there’s a cool well for the beer. Solar panels on the roof power lights inside the cabin and lazy ceiling fans. The outdoor kitchen runs on propane. Dean shrugs out of his flannel shirt and jacket, leaving them on a bunk before following Benny back outside.

Benny’s battering fresh catfish fillets and frying up hushpuppies, his strong arms deftly doing several things at once in the kitchen area. He has a white apron tied over his wife beater, with his broad shoulders sporting suspenders holding up canvas trousers, so old-fashioned Dean is amazed that anyone still makes them. Dean watches him cook for a moment before wandering over to the boat, where he squats down and starts sorting the engine pieces into a sensible order. Dean has never worked on an airboat before, but the principles are the same in most engines and he can see how the pieces fit together.

About an hour later, Benny calls “Supper’s ready.” Dean looks up and picks up two pieces to bring over with him. It’s a little odd to have the vampire pile food on a plate for him then sit down across the table to watch him eat,  but Dean gets over it as he shovels food in his mouth making little moans of appreciation, and not noticing how Benny’s eyes grow lustful at the sounds.

Dean unfastens his belt and pops open the top button of his jeans as he leans back and belches before tilting his beer toward Benny in a toast. “Best damn meal I’ve had in days.” 

“Hmm,” the vampire mumbles, not trusting himself to say more right then. Benny’s eyes take advantage of Dean’s being closed to travel over the hunter. The last rays of the sun burnish the younger man in gold and bronze, his long eyelashes almost hide the dark circles under his eyes, and without his layers of clothing he is smaller, more slender and compact despite his broad shoulders. His lips glisten as his mouth closes around the beer bottle, and Benny has to bite back a moan of his own as his nostrils flare.

Benny walks over to the cooler and takes out a bag of O Positive, coincidently Dean’s blood type and the universal donor. Benny gulps half the bag before glancing back where he can see slivers of green watching him through Dean’s lashes, bottle still tilted to open lips as his throat works around the liquid. The older man stops drinking and clears his throat, pointing to the parts Dean has on the table. “That what’s wrong with my boat?” If his voice is husky it can be put down to eating.

Dean straightens and puts down his beer to pick up the engine pieces, shows how they should fit together. “Yep, see these here should be one part. If you’ve got a welder, I might be able to rig it. Otherwise you need a new one.”

“I got a welder down in the truck.” Benny says, and he takes the last remaining gulps of the blood bag before folding it into the trash. “Wait here. I’ll bring it up.”

“Nah, man, I’ll come with you. Better to work on it away from all the wood around here.” Dean stands, but Benny can tell he is dragging a tired body as he follows him to the truck. Benny gets the welder into position on the tailgate as Dean dons safety goggles and gloves. The hunter’s competence at this is apparent, and he looks almost relaxed fixing the fixable. By the time Dean is satisfied with his work, it is dark out and he stumbles following Benny back to the veranda. 

“You gonna make it, man?” Benny asks. His emotional buffers fail as he sees that Dean is stumbling from exhaustion. “Damn, Dean. How long has it been since you slept?”

Dean brushes away Benny’s concern. “I’ll be okay, Benny. I’ll just get some coffee.”

Benny remembers how stubborn and distrustful Dean can be from Purgatory. He has seen him this tired and shivering in the night air. When Dean would let him, Benny would keep watch, covering the hunter with his own pea coat. But the truth is, the only times Benny really remembers Dean relaxing, looking young and peaceful, were the nights Dean was wrapped in the angel’s coat, held in Castiel’s arms, as they all pretended he was just sleeping, conveniently ignoring the fact that Benny’s senses were sharp, and he could hear the angel’s fingers caress the hunter’s body and smell Dean’s release before he collapsed into sleep. 

The want bubbles up in the vampire until he forces it down again. Benny didn’t live in a time or a place where sexuality was fluid; he finds his desire for this hunter to be disturbing for all its ferocity. But he won’t deny it any longer, not to himself at least. 

“The shower works best while the water’s still hot from the day,” Benny points to the outdoor contraption when they get back onto the veranda. He bustles around a little, handing Dean body wash and towels, while he pushes him toward gently toward the shower. “You be okay, or you think you’ll need help?” Benny knows that’ll get Dean moving, protesting he can do it himself. “Throw them greasy clothes out and I’ll do a load of wash.” The hunter responds well to commands when he’s tired, like following orders is a fallback position.

Benny moves the hand-cranked washer into position near the edge of the veranda where he can keep an eye of Dean before he gathers the dirty clothes Dean throws out, and the few pieces from inside the bunkhouse too. He starts the wood-burning stove inside the sleeping room before settling to serendipitously watch Dean soaping up his body and rinsing through the slats in the wooded enclosure. He rinses the dirty water from the clothes and draws them through a wringer before hanging them on a clothes line as Dean exits shivering, wearing the sleep shorts Benny left for him to find.

“Go get in the bunk.” Benny orders, but Dean stands glaring at him for a minute. 

“I was planning to put the engine back together.” The hunter has woken up a little from the shower, but he is shivering as the night temperatures have dropped into the low sixties as soon as the sun faded. Benny snorts at him as he walks around turning things off for the night, unhampered in his vision and amused as Dean continues to stand there a little defiantly. He watches as Dean wilts, looking lost and young, standing with his arms folded around his ribs, trying to hold onto some warmth.

“Morning’s soon enough,” Benny says as he ushers Dean into the cabin, pulling back the sheets on one of the bunks. Dean falls into the bed face first, pleased to smell how clean the bed is. He bunches the pillow into his arms and sniffs appreciatively. He freezes at first, and Benny knows it’s a questioning of the vampire’s intents. He clucks his tongue as he pulls the sheet up over Dean, and then adds a quilt.

“You, sleep.” Benny growls softly. “I’ll keep watch.” Whether it is the familiar words, the days since he slept, the food in his belly or the soft clean warmth of the bed, Dean dozes off with Benny sitting next to him rubbing circles on his back through the bedding. Benny feels when the tension leaves the hunter. The vampire strokes a few more times wishing there weren’t so many layers between his fingers and the smooth warm freckled skin on the young man’s back. He thinks of a term he heard in New Orleans after he got back, eye candy. Seems pretty appropriate to this hardened hunter who looks like a Renaissance statue of an archangel. Except the nose, Benny thinks, crooked from being broken more than once.

Allowing his hand to rest, Benny feels the rise and fall of Dean’s back, the beating of his strong heart, and the warmth of his skin. He can smell the coconut from the body wash, and the salty tang of blood pulsing through his body. He moves away again, going out to get another pint of blood before his vampire teeth descend with desire. This one he holds in the hot water on the stove to warm before drinking. His body is mixing his desires, and he is soothing himself before going back into the bunkhouse.

Benny hurries back in when Dean cries out from a nightmare, finding the hunter sitting bolt upright, his heart racing and barely controlled panic in his eyes. “Shh, shh, shh.” Benny rumbles, moving toward the man like he might close the distance to a spooked horse. “Just a nightmare. Shh. You’re okay.”

Dean is shaking, eyes wide, breathing erratic. “Where were you?” He demands, tense and accusing.

“Just taking care of business. No problems, brother. I was right outside the door.” Benny is still speaking softly, and he sees when Dean believes him and blushes with embarrassment that Benny has no intention of letting him wallow in. The vampire sits on the bed next to Dean and then encourages him to stretch back out. Benny moves Dean until he is lying with his back to the older man’s furred chest, tucked back under the quilt. The vampire spoons the man, holding him firmly and shushing every sound he makes until Dean lies quietly. “Let me help you like the angel used to,” Benny mutters, watching fear and anxiety wash over Dean’s face.

“Cas is back, Benny. But he’s so different now, like he’s forgotten.” Dean confides in a hushed voice, but he doesn’t move away, not that’s there’s room in the single bed holding two men. “I’m not gay, you know. And Cas, well, I don’t know what he is.”

“Me neither,” Benny breathes onto Dean’s neck, feeling as goose bumps rise on the hunter’s skin. “But I think we could just make each other feel a little better. Just for tonight.” With the arm caught underneath Dean, Benny spreads his broad calloused hand across Dean’s flat stomach, pulling him closer and letting his thumb trace circles slowly down his skin. He takes a deep breath and nuzzles along Dean’s shoulder. Benny’s other hand strokes Dean’s muscled leg, knee to hip, fingers brushing gently each time closer to Dean’s penis. 

Benny watches as Dean closes his eyes, and he feels him push back, firm ass adding friction to Benny’s erection through his pants. The vampire’s not sure which one of them moans first, but the sound makes them both harder. When Benny moves his hand lower, pushing the band of Dean’s sleep shorts down with his pinky, his fingers brush across the tip of Dean’s erection, feeling a spurt of sticky pre-cum. He makes short work of moving the sleepwear down freeing Dean’s erection, and he cups his palm under Dean’s balls pressing. His own erection nestles into the cleft of the hunter’s ass. His other hand spreads the warm sticky fluid around as he pulls and twists Dean’s penis gently.

When Dean cums, he cries out but keeps his eyes shut, as though he is pretending to sleep. But he tenses his ass against the other man, undulating gently, milking him until Benny too ejaculates, and they both lie still. Benny pushes back the cover and takes the damp towel from the chair, wiping off Dean before recovering him, and then standing up to strip out of his own clothes before wiping himself off and pulling on clean boxers.

Benny climbs back under the quilt and pulls Dean into the spoon again, feeling the hunter’s body become boneless and relaxed as he falls asleep. The Cajun smiles gently beard trailing along Dean’s neck as he kisses him gently, but inside he knows he just changed something he might not be able to salvage their friendship from. He thinks about why he did it, about how long he has lusted for the younger man, and how he had been worried he’d never see the hunter after Martin’s death. 

But he has tonight to wrap the hunter in his arms. No matter what happens, he’ll have tonight.

In the morning, Benny wakes to an empty bed. He gets dressed and heads outside where a low fog makes the bayou more hushed. He spots a fully dressed Dean kneeling over the boat’s engine compartment already at work. Benny starts a pot of chicory coffee before frying eggs, bacon, and potatoes. He keeps his eye on Dean while he works, worrying a little that the hunter dressed in damp clothes just to get himself completely covered. He must be feeling pretty damned vulnerable to do that, Benny thinks. He makes four pieces of toast over an open flame before moving the meal onto a plate, placing a cup of coffee and a cold glass of orange juice next to it.

“Breakfast is ready.” Benny’s voice rings out, as normal as he can make it. He watches as Dean wipes his forehead with his shirt sleeve and pulls out a cloth to wipe grease from his hands, all the while sneaking peaks toward the vampire.

Benny can see the tension through his body again as Dean climbs onto the veranda to settle at his place at the table, long legs sprawled, and green eyes squinting at the vampire. “You don’t have to feed me all the time,” Dean grouses, and then he blushes as he realizes how grumpy that sounds. “I mean, it’s great food, thank you. But I can take care of myself.”

“Never doubted it.” Benny’s reply is a little muffled from his own cup of coffee. “But, you get that I’ve been a short order cook longer than you been alive, right?”

Dean glares at him across the table, expecting a trap before he shrugs and starts cutting up his food and shoveling bites in his mouth. Benny carefully does not watch, and he tries to ignore the little sounds of pleasure that escape Dean as he eats. When the hunter pushes his plate away, Benny refills both their coffee cups and stretches out his legs while drinking his. “How’s my boat?” He asks, keeping the conversation to business.

“I’ll be finished in about an hour. Then I’ve got to take off.” Dean’s voice has a challenge to it, but Benny doesn’t take the bait.

“You could stick around. We could do some fishing.” Benny makes an offer he knows will tempt Dean. Fishing is one of their safe topics from Purgatory, especially before they found the angel and Benny gained the hunter’s trust.

Dean’s eyes lift, but they are filled with regret. “Can’t, man. Gotta go make things right with my brother.” He leaves everything else unsaid; his embarrassment about what he and the vampire did last night, his deeper shame that Benny knew what he and Cas were doing in Purgatory, his certainty that he has somehow failed his family again. But he keeps his eyes on Benny’s this time until he can’t help but blink back tears at the acceptance he sees in the man’s gaze. The wrong shade of blue.

Benny’s face can’t completely hide the rejection he feels, but he waves off Dean before the hunter can interject. “I’m sorry I came between you and Sam,” Benny says, offering the apology he knows Dean will accept. “You are – you’re salt of the earth, you know. Just a good person any way you look at it. Ain’t nothing wrong with you letting others help you sometimes.” He leans forward to make his point more empathetic. “You have been a better friend to me than my own kin. I owe you, brother. Anything. Any time you need it, you call me.”

Dean catches his lower lip in his teeth, eyes darting back into the caring, kind face of the monster, his blood brother, whose bond was forged in the constant battle to stay alive in Purgatory. He worries on his lip a moment, trying to think how he can say what’s on his mind without alienating this man any further.  “We can’t – you know.” He stops to think. “ I’m not – you know. It was just Cas ever before…” He gives up with a frustrated puff of air.

Benny twists his lips into a rueful smile. He understands. The hunter and the angel, they had something special, and the man is still grieving its loss. He was a substitute. He gets it. “Don’t matter,” Benny says. “It’s forgotten. Just don’t let it make things weird for us, brother. I never wanted that.”

Dean and Benny share a look of absolution. “I think I can do that,” Dean adds, faint smile on his lips before he gulps the last of his coffee and climbs back onto the boat becoming engrossed in the engine again. Benny tidies up the kitchen, takes a moment to straighten the cabin, before he sits with a fishing pole watching Dean finish up on the boat. Too soon for the vampire, he hears the engine turn over and the boat sounds better than it has for years. Dean cleans up the tools, placing them back in the kit he then carries into the cruiser.

“All finished, man, and I need to take off,” Dean says as he scrambles one last time onto the veranda where Benny has packed his duffel and placed it on the bench. 

“Sure you don’t want to stick around? Fish some? Let me feed you more time before you go?” Benny has to offer, even if he knows the answer. “You’re kinda on the skinny side.”

“What? Me?” Dean says laughing as he tries to stick out a flat stomach. “I think you already took care of that.” The smile he gives Benny is genuine, filled with flashing teeth and eye crinkles. “No. man. I gotta go. You stay good, Benny. Stay outta trouble.” Dean talks while he gathers his duffel. Benny stops him before he can walk away.

The vampire pulls Dean into the circle of his arms, hugging him fiercely. “You go tell that brother of yours he needs to help you sometimes, especially with the nightmares, my friend. And next time you see that angel, you tell him to take better care of you. You deserve it.” 

Dean relaxes a moment, touching foreheads with the vampire and allowing himself to be hugged before he pushes himself out of Benny’s arm, clapping him on the back and shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, Benny. I’m indestructible. I always end up okay.” 

The vampire snorts at that as he watches the hunter walk away. Yeah, Dean Winchester is the salt of the earth, and like too many people who spend all their time looking after others, he doesn’t find it easy to let anyone share his burden. He feels privileged that he got to see him at his most vulnerable. 

“You drive careful.” Benny calls one last time before he hears the big Chevy’s engine roar to life. 

The car horn lets out a bleat as Dean drives off. He has a ten-hour drive to Kermit. If he hurries he can be there by nightfall.


End file.
